


Dancing Lessons

by TheBraveHobbit



Series: Taut [18]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, M/M, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:42:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBraveHobbit/pseuds/TheBraveHobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Dancing at a wedding<br/>Character: Les Amis<br/>Summary: M.Gillenormand is getting married and Marius has to learn to dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my sandbox-style Modern!AU: Taut  
> Additional content can be found on my tumblr: elfjolras.tumblr.com

“He’s going to expect me to dance.” Marius despaired, leaning his nose into Courfeyrac’s shoulder and moaning into his boyfriend’s collar.

“Of course he is. Dancing is what you do at weddings.”Courfeyrac reached to pat Marius’ dark curls consolingly.

“I thought you weren’t speaking to your grandfather?” Bossuet inquired loudly from where he was helping Joly to ascend the stairs at the back of the room.

“He’s after me to move home again, after the wedding.” Marius sighed. “He thinks I’ll be less—what did he say?”

“Impressionable. He thinks I’m imprinting you with my wicked wiles and my talk of civil liberties and the natural rights of man.”

“Aren’t you?” Grantaire cackled. He’d arrived at the café before any of them to take his usual seat in the most remote corner of the room, feet propped irreverently upon the table beside a tall thermos.

“I’m certainly trying.”Courfeyrac tilted his chin to kiss Marius’ nose with mischievous affection. Marius’ cheeks flushed and he scowled.

“What’s wrong with a little dancing?” Joly asked, taking the seat beside Marius and hanging his cane over the back of it. “Bossuet and I go dancing all the time.” Bossuet grinned broadly and squeezed Joly’s hand as he passed. It was an old joy of theirs, recently revived as Joly grew more comfortable with his prosthetic.

“It’s fine for other people, I just—”

“Never learned?” Combeferre supplied. He had followed Bossuet and Joly into the upper room of the Musain, arms laden with papers for grading. Enjolras was close behind him, similarly burdened. There was no formal meeting today—Feuilly had picked up a shift at a bar where he sometimes worked, and Musichetta’s job had been juggling her schedule about for weeks—but everyone had fallen into the habit of spending their free evenings at the café. The students, especially, found it vastly preferable to the busy bustling of the campus library.

“Never needed to.” Marius grumbled, crossing his arms somewhat defensively and sitting back.

“We’ll have to teach you then.” Grantaire kicked his legs down and lurched to his feet, offering a hand to Marius that Courfeyrac playfully knocked away.

“If anyone is going to teach my boyfriend how to step, it’s going to be me.”

Grantaire lifted his hands in surrender, laughing agreeably.

“I’ll dance with you, R.” Joly offered, allowing Grantaire to lift him from his chair. Grantaire braced the shorter man against his hip and immediately spun and dipped him with a practiced flair. Joly laughed and Bossuet clapped in delight. Marius looked alarmed.

“Do I have—”

“No,” Courfeyrac assured him, rising to his feet and pulling the reluctant Marius along with him. “We can start small.”

“If you’re going to dance, there must be music.” Combeferre said, setting his papers in a neat stack and standing on his toes to reach the dusty radio propped upon one of the tall mantles that lined the upper room. The old device was rarely employed, but a quick huff of air from Combeferre revealed a functional power switch, and after spending a few long moments fiddling with the dial, he’d settled on a station whose music he deemed acceptable.

Courfeyrac had set Marius’ hands where they belonged, and was beginning to explain the measure of steps. “Sets of four. Waltz in three-and.”

“I’m not coordinated enough for this.”

“Yes you are.”

“Marius, if I can do it—” Bossuet began.

“And do it well!” Joly interjected, somewhat breathlessly. Grantaire was leading him on at a merry pace.

“—then I have full confidence in you.”

A commotion in the stairwell announced the arrival of Jehan and Bahorel:

“It’s the same thing!”

“Like red and burgundy are the same thing.”

“Exactly.”

“Ah! You’re impos—hush, I hear music!”

Jehan was the first into the room, and her face lit as she took in the scene. Joly and Grantaire spinning around the long room, Marius stumbling a bit as Courfeyrac directed his steps with gentle patience, Bossuet leaning back at the table, watching the goings-on with great amusement, Combeferre reclining with a notebook in his lap, smiling around the pen in his teeth…even Enjolras, though he was devoting most of his attention to the notes he had brought along, glanced up with an occasional smile. Jehan spun about on the heels of her bare feet, her skirt whirling dramatically as she reached to grab at Bahorel and pull him into the room with her, obviously intending to join in the fun. “Dancing! I love dancing. What’s the occasion?”

“Marius’ grandfather is getting married, and Marius doesn’t know how to dance.” Bossuet supplied.

“Monsieur Gillenormand, really? How exciting! I didn’t think he was the marrying type.”

“He’s really not. Sorry!” Marius had stepped on Courfeyrac’s foot, but Courfeyrac only shrugged.

“You’re doing fine.”

“I don’t know what this woman’s done to talk him into it. Normally he gets bored with them so quickly…”

“I’d like to meet her, I think. She must be very interesting.”

“As though you need lessons in being interesting.” Bahorel teased, tossing Jehan’s shoes at her. She’d walked out of them several blocks back, and probably not even noticed. Jehan caught them and arranged them beneath the chair where she had deposited her handbag.

“There’s always more to learn.” Grantaire said laughingly, depositing Joly into the chair marked by his cane. Joly’s face was flushed, and though his breathing was a little heavy and he rubbed at the joint of his hip with distraction, he was still laughing. Grantaire reached for his thermos, taking a deep pull before he motioned for Bossuet to join him. “Come on, you don’t think I’d forget you?”

“You are going to dance with me, aren’t you?” Jehan’s tone threatened a pout. Bahorel grinned and poked at her protruding lip before sliding his hand to her waist, pulling her away from the table so that they had more room.

“ ‘course I am.”

Even barefoot, Jehan was several inches taller than him. It didn’t matter; their bodies folded together like puzzle pieces and they moved around the Musain with comfortable fluidity, alternating lead with every other song.

“How do you all make this look so easy?” Marius asked, somewhat frustrated, dropping his hand from Courfeyrac’s and frowning deeply.

“It’s not so complicated as you are making it.” Courfeyrac said gently. “You’re thinking too much.”

“Marius is always thinking too much.” Grantaire supplied, spinning Bossuet with much more flourish than was strictly necessary. Marius stuck out his tongue.

“Come here, don’t give up.” Courfeyrac caught his hand and pulled them back together. “It just takes practice, Marius. You’re doing very well.”

Marius leaned his head into Courfeyrac’s shoulder again, sighing dramatically.

“We’ve got a whole month until the wedding.” Courfeyrac noted, patting Marius’ hair again. “Plenty of time to practice.”


End file.
